


substitutions

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Espionage, Identity Reveal, Kissing, M/M, Post-Star Wars: A New Hope, Pre-Rogue One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-07-29 09:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16261244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: Lir winced, but drew in a deep breath and stood a little straighter. Even to Han’s eyes, he was looking a little worse for wear, wan and thin, as though he’d been stretched too far. It’d been years since they saw one another, but Han was sure he would’ve remembered the grimness he saw here, the dark, haunted bags under his eyes. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else. Excuse me, Captain Solo.”





	substitutions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [days4daisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/gifts).



This wasn’t Han’s favorite cantina on Tatooine, not for the service anyway. Not for the drinks either, which were watered down in the back because the owner was a cheapskate and an inveterate fraud. In fact, it was a pretty mediocre bar as far as such things went, as awful and dusty as every other place on Tatooine and then some. But Han had to admit: he hated it a little bit less than every other place on this heap of sand even if he was a little bit more likely to piss off the barkeep than he usually did simply because he came here so often and couldn't get as intoxicated as he wanted as economically as he wanted to. “Aww, come on, Keethis,” Han said, cajoling, leaning a little too far into the bar. Drunk and yet not drunk enough, he got right into Keethis’s generously ugly face. “I’m good for it.”

Keethis snorted. “Kriff no. And if you ask again, I’ll have you kicked out. I like you enough to give you a warning, but that’s it.”

A rather familiar hand lifted itself from further down the counter and that? That was why this was his favorite cantina on Tatooine. “And if I’m good for it?” a delicately accented voice asked, somehow audible over the groaning, griping din of the other patrons. Han would have been lying if he’d said he hadn’t noticed the arrival as soon as he stepped into the place about an hour ago, but since nobody asked, he didn’t have to admit to it. And, in fact, he should have been congratulated for waiting this long to abuse the acquaintance. “What then?”

Keethis grinned, exposing sharp teeth dark with what was probably, hopefully just his favored brand of oily, sludgy wine. Not drinkable for humans thankfully. Otherwise he would probably have tried to serve it to Han and that just could not happen, no. “Then I’ll happily divest you of your credit chit and hand this scoundrel off to you. Keep him out of trouble, I might remember I owe you in the future.”

Biting back a smile, Han pointed at Keethis and poked him in the shoulder. Then, he hooked his thumb in his savior’s direction. “You old softie, you. I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

“I’m not sure who’s taste is worse here. Yours or Lir’s.”

Lir’s eyes, brown and warm, full of mischief, found Han’s over the heads of several miscreants and local drunkards. Winking, Lir said, “I’m sure I don’t mind being saddled with a poor reputation.”

Han very deliberately did not stumble as he crossed the floor, focusing heavily on his feet as he walked. In fact, he even managed to avoid catching his toe on the loose floorboard. A miracle by all accounts since he didn’t think he’d ever missed it in his entire life. Reaching Lir’s side, he laid his arm around Lir’s shoulder and let Lir bear the brunt of his weight as he mussed Lir’s soft, dark hair. It’d grown a bit shaggier since the last time they’d seen one another, a bit like Han’s even. It looked good on him. “There’s a good man,” Han said. Going a bit smarmy just because he knew it would get a laugh out of Lir, he planted his free hand on his hip. The scent of Lir’s cologne was enough to send a prickle of hope through him that this night might be a bit less lonely than he’d been expecting. Wouldn’t that be nice? “Don’t listen to Keethis. He said he likes me after all and we know that’s a lie. In any case, I always knew you had good taste.”

Keethis rolled his third, fourth, and fifth eye before plunking down a bottle in front of Han. Lir, always good for his word, handed over his credit chit and ducked his head. “You flatter me too much,” he said, getting into the spirit of the thing. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, the kind that Han wanted to pull on just to see it grow wider. The thing about Lir was he wasn’t like the other smugglers around here. Sure, he hauled cargo and sometimes it was illegal, but he was a good guy, too. And one of the rare ones who minded his business and got his business minded in return. Han had never quite understood how he managed that, but it was enough for Han to know that he could relax around him.

And sometimes the opposite, too, but, you know. In a fun way. Not in the way where he had to worry about whether he’d be keeping his life. It was the kind of not relaxing where good times could be had by all and there was nothing to regret in the morning. Han liked those kinds of nights. They were getting fewer and further between as time passed and people learned who Han Solo really was and could be.

He tried not to regret that and told himself he only burned the bridges that needed burning.

“So, where is Chewbacca tonight?” Lir asked, probing, and it didn’t take a genius for Han to know what he was really asking. So Han hadn’t been reading the situation incorrectly. Just as he’d been hoping.

“Chewie’s running down a lead on a job.” That was probably the kindest interpretation of what he was doing and it was absolutely the one Han was sticking with. But Lir didn’t need to know about that. It was a boring topic for conversation and Han didn’t like to cross those particular streams. Especially not when it boiled down to them getting into an argument about their next step and Chewie browbeating Han into following his lead by leaving without him. If Chewie was here, he’d say Han was sulking, but since he was not, Han absolutely didn’t have to cop to it. “So I’m definitely free if you want to catch up.”

Lir’s brow climbed his forehead. “I’m afraid I’ve heard all the gossip I need to since the last time I was in town.” His palm rasped over the stubble that dotted his jaw. He was enjoying this, the bastard. Making Han work for it. What a cad. “I’ve even heard about what you’ve been up to.”

Han bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something he really oughtn’t and sucked on his teeth before bringing the bottle of shitty beer to his mouth that Lir had so kindly purchased for him. It was still better than the swill Han could currently afford even if he failed to fully suppress a shiver. “Don’t let the rumors fool you. I’m at least twice as swamped as you think I am.”

With a huff, Lir shook his head. “Impressive even for you.”

“I’ve also heard a rumor that one of us owes the other for the last time we were both sitting right here,” Han said, pushing things along. There were only so many self-deprecating jokes he could make while still in the midst of licking his own wounds. Lir would be a good distraction from that, but only if they got past this talking bantha shit. Not that Han didn’t like to talk. Obviously, he did. Sometimes couldn’t help himself. But he had better things in mind. Especially if Lir wasn’t interested in hearing gossip from Han. That was a little different than usual, but who was Han to argue? If he was already full up with chatter, Han was perfectly willing to get on with something else. Leaning in close, Han turned his head, lips brushing close to Lir’s ear as he surveyed the rest of the room. As usual, nobody was paying either of them the least bit of attention. “I also heard a rumor one of us is willing to pay up.”

“What a wonderful rumor,” Lir replied, pushing himself to his feet. Keethis very helpfully tossed Lir’s expunged credit chit back to him. “I suppose the only question left is your place or mine.”

“You know the answer to that,” Han replied, pleased when Lir tangled their fingers together and pulled him toward the door toward the back that lead up to the rooms Keethis let to travelers who were tired of bunking in cargo ships or simply wanted some place convenient to conduct business or more pleasurable pursuits in a convenient locale.

It was all so familiar and comforting, Han didn’t even question it.

He didn’t know he should have been.

*

It wasn’t that Han wanted to be a Rebellion hero. He absolutely, resolutely, definitely did not want to be one of those. Never had. Never will. So all this nonsense with fanfares and medals—and not even medals that were worth anything, Han had already tried to ascertain whether it was worth scrapping, it was not—and parties in which people seemed happy to see him? It just wasn’t his scene. In fact, he felt twitchy just standing here in the midst of so many people celebrating their good fortune, as though defeating the Death Star hadn’t just painted an even bigger target on their back.

Han wanted out. And he wanted a drink. But he wasn’t sure he wanted the drinks floating around tonight. It was mostly champagne that seemed to be flowing, bright and bubbly, splashes of it turning the floor of the hangar sticky. If he could get to his ship, maybe he could find something worth drinking, but that meant working his way through a thick throng of people who would want to clap him on the back and congratulate him.

No reward was worth this.

It was easier to extricate himself from Luke and Leia and find a shadowed corner to escape to. His ship was a hot commodity among some of the pilots out here, but even he could see there was a perfectly serviceable empty stretch of wall just over—

“Lir?!” The sound of Han’s voice, loud even in the midst of this revelry, startled even Han, came out far louder than he expected in his excitement at seeing an unexpected and familiar face. It must’ve come as a surprise to Lir, too, because he flinched and looked around him, his hands suddenly burying themselves in his jacket pockets. “What in all the hells are you doing here? Let me get a look at you.”

Lir winced, but drew in a deep breath and stood a little straighter. Even to Han’s eyes, he was looking a little worse for wear, wan and thin, as though he’d been stretched too far. It’d been years since they saw one another, but Han was sure he would’ve remembered the grimness he saw here, the dark, haunted bags under his eyes. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else. Excuse me, Captain Solo.”

Though Lir tried to step past him, Han wasn’t a dummy—though anyone would guess otherwise from his recent behavior, hooking up with the Rebellion, what was he thinking—and grabbed him by the wrist. “I don’t think so.”

If Han expected him to relax, he got the exact opposite in response. In fact, with the way he wrenched himself out of Han’s grasp, Han was liable to worry that he’d strained something with the effort.

“Whoa, hey. No need for that,” Han said, lifting his hands. “I don’t mean any harm.” His eyes searched Lir’s face. This was him; there was no doubt in Han’s mind about that. But why he was lying about it now… “Come on. I didn’t mean anything by it. So you’re not Lir. And I take it you’ve never been to Tatooine either, huh? That’s just fine by me. Sometimes I’d like to pretend I’ve never been to Tatooine, too.”

The very same smile Han remembered pulled at the corner of not-Lir’s mouth now, perhaps more dubious and bitter, but recognizable all the same. It made Han want to do something stupid and sentimental, like pull him into a kiss and reacquaint himself with the taste of his mouth. Whatever of his past he wanted to forget, Han was willing to forget right along with him. Sure, a twinge of nerves might have started twisting in Han’s gut, but he’d never been very good at protecting himself. Probably he should have heeded the warning, but he didn’t want to.

He wanted one thing that was familiar in this entire damned base. And that was not-Lir.

“I’m sure I can imagine why,” not-Lir said, “but as you say I’ve never been.”

“Yeah, well. I’d still offer you a drink if you want it.” Maybe they’d be able to sneak around the outskirts of this party and get through the _Falcon’s_ hatch somehow. “None of this fizzy crap either.”

Not-Lir huffed and looked away, wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and scrubbed. Biting his lip, he closed his eyes. Just what could possibly have happened to him that the decision to have a drink would be so fraught? Sure, the galaxy was an awful place and only seemed to grow more awful as time passed, but even so. You had to let your hair down some time, right? Not-Lir looked as though he’d never had an enjoyable day in his life. Which was impossible because Han knew for a fact he’d had at least a few. Han had ensured that much.

But, hey. Whatever. If he wanted to pretend.

“Come on, it’s Corellian,” Han said, cajoling. “Get you drunk as fast as you want to be.”

“What makes you think I want to get drunk?”

“You’ve got the look.”

He scrubbed his hand across his face and groaned low enough that Han almost couldn’t hear it. “Kriff,” he said. “Fine.”

“Good man,” Han murmured, pressing his hand against not-Lir’s shoulder to guide him toward the _Falcon_. “What’s your name anyway? Since we’ve established it’s not Lir.”

His step faltered and he didn’t answer immediately. “Cassian,” he said finally, as though it cost him dearly to say it. “Cassian Andor.”

“Cas—” Han’s heart dropped though he willed it not to. Sure, he’d heard about Cassian Andor from the princess on the trip back to Yavin 4. He’d heard about the entire team that was responsible for getting the Death Star’s readouts as they were safely tucked into hyperspace. Tough break for them. She’d seemed to believe they didn’t make it off of Scarif. Seemed she was wrong. At least about one. But perhaps the most immediately important detail was the one he desperately wanted to ignore. “The spy.”

When Cassian breathed in, it was shaky. “I’m with Rebel Intelligence, yes.”

Cassian was with Rebel Intelligence. And he was lying about having been on Tatooine. What were the odds he’d been there on a mission? It was one thing to play things close to the vest. He didn’t want to admit he was there, fine. But if he was there playing Han in the process? And now he was lying about it again? People did what they had to do, sure, but it certainly left Han wishing he hadn’t extended the invitation. There was no possible way Cassian could’ve been on Tatooine for Han exclusively—or at all. And yet even knowing that, he still hated the thought that Cassian had—

Gesturing sharply toward the _Falcon’s_ ramp, he shook his head to clear the least charitable thoughts that were suddenly filling his brain. His hang ups were his hang ups. They had nothing to do with Cassian. And there was no reason to think Cassian’s mission had anything to do with what they did to one another, with one another. There was a reason Han didn’t get involved with people.

Shit like this had a habit of creeping up on him and catching him by surprise. It was no fault but his own that he happened to like a spy who was hanging around on Tatooine under false pretenses.

Anyway. Cassian had bigger problems right now. From everything Han had heard, the Battle of Scarif was a clusterfuck from start to finish. That any of them made it out alive was a miracle. What the hell did he care about some guy he may or may not have fucked in the past for reasons Han didn’t quite understand any longer.

“Welcome aboard,” Han said, dry, feeling a little bit bad about how awkward Cassian looked as he strode into the lounge. It was so very different from how Lir had looked and acted. For the first time, Han was glad they’d never spent time together on the ship. It would be even more awkward having him here if they had. “Let me get you that drink.”

“Wait,” Cassian said. His hand caught in Han’s shirt, fisted tight to keep him from leaving. Han didn’t want to be affected, but he couldn’t help the way his heart rate spiked at the contact. He was still as good looking as Han remembered, had the same beginnings of stubble that Han had enjoyed, still had eyes Han found more intriguing than they had any right to be. Even if he was nothing like the man he’d known, Han was still drawn to him. Foolish, foolish man.

But he’d never done well with affairs of the heart, had he? Even when they were at their most casual.

“I don’t want you to think,” Cassian said, speaking slowly. “You weren’t a part of the mission. That was never—” He huffed in frustration and dragged his hand through his hair, mussing it the way Han used to like doing. “I wanted it. Whenever we came across one another. I just thought you should know. In case you thought…”

Yeah, in case he thought exactly what he was thinking. And that was great. That was so nice to know. But what in the hell was he supposed to do with that information now? If Cassian were Lir, he knew what he would do. But Cassian wasn’t that man. And Han had no idea what he might have needed at the moment. “How about that drink, huh?”

Something like disappointment crossed Cassian’s features. Maybe. Or maybe Han was just imagining it. Either way, all Cassian did was nod and say, “Okay. A drink sounds good,” like it was the last thing in the galaxy he really wanted. And then Cassian grabbed him again and pushed him up against the bulkhead, crushing their lips together in a bruising kiss that was definitely not even a little bit like how Lir had kissed him. He remembered Lir’s kisses and though he missed them just a little bit, he thought maybe there was something to be said about Cassian’s intensity, the way his hands roved over Han’s body and tugged his shirt free of his trousers, heedless of the fact that they weren’t even really acquainted anymore. That desperation matched something in Han and even if it was driven by different circumstances, Han could live with it.

“I don’t know you,” Han said when Cassian pulled back. Just to make sure.

“Do you need to?”

Yes, he wanted to say, but the truth was this: he didn’t. And, in fact, if Cassian still wanted to do this with him even now, well. He was okay with that. He didn’t need anything more than the look in Cassian’s eyes to know he wanted this. Whatever Cassian got out of it, it was his business, and he didn’t seem the type to share. What Han was getting out of it wasn’t exactly obvious either, not even to himself, but the heat that pooled in his gut and further south was enough to sway him, the way his nerves danced at every press of Cassian’s fingers.

“You’re not one of these Rebellion idealists, are you?” Han asked, only half-joking.

“No.” And Han had to give it to him, his laugh seemed almost genuine in its amusement. “That, I’m definitely not.”

“I guess that’s something,” Han answered, grabbing Cassian’s collar and pulling him back in.

This wasn’t anything like how he was expecting this night to go and he wasn’t entirely sure what he was in for, but he could safely say that he was willing to follow this wherever it took him. But if it felt good, well, hey. There were worse things he could’ve been doing instead. And if it relieved some of the pressure he was feeling, some of the loneliness?

He didn’t need to tell Cassian about it.

This way they could both have a secret.


End file.
